The scent of the ocean in her hair
by Loveforthestory
Summary: With Charlie's birthday two weeks away and her life filled with the absence of hope and the reality of war, she feels no desire to celebrate that day. She is given an out when she learns that Bass and Miles have been called away to the Gulf of Mexico for a mission. After insisting they bring her with them, they end up in a small village within walking distance to the beach.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a birthday story for revoinfinite, happy birthday to you! Her prompt for this story is fabulous and I love the inspiration I found in that prompt about a mission in the Gulf of Mexico and a small village near the beach. Thank you so much for that! I wish you a very happy birthday and a lot of love, Love from Love**

* * *

With Charlie's birthday two weeks away and her life filled with the absence of hope and the reality of war , she feels no desire to celebrate that day. She is given an out when she learns that Bass and Miles have been called away to the Gulf of Mexico for a mission to infiltrate a small patriot camp. After insisting they bring her with them, they make the trek south and over a week later, end up in a small Mexican village within walking distance to the beach...

The scent of the ocean in her hair

Chapter 1

In a quiet kitchen and with a past behind them filled with who they were and what could have been, Miles has to look away.

He can't look at her. She is still looking at him with eyes he knows so well. Years of forbidden want that should not have been there, years of fucking in cheap hotels behind Ben's back and a life filled with sharp edges are occupying the space between the both of them.

'What do you want me to say, Rachel?' Miles' voice booms through the kitchen. Guilt and irritation and not knowing what the hell to do are burning in his chest.

'I need you to tell me that the one child I have left is not leaving today. With you...' Her voice is dangerously steady. She pauses when she is looking straight at him. ' ...and with him.' There is blunt coolness is those last three words.

'Rachel, she needs this. I can't stop her.'

'You mean you do not _want_ to stop her.' Rachel's voice is filled with anger.

Her words hurt more than he can or wants to admit. Because he would burn this world to the ground for Charlie. He would do it all again. For her.

He knows she needs her space. She is so much like him. He made a mistake when he let her go out there on her own once, after he brought Rachel back to Willoughby.

He knows it was Bass who made sure he could pull her into his arms again that day she showed up in Willoughby months after he watched her leave. He won't let her go. Not again. If she needs to be out there, he will be right there with her.

When he looks at Rachel, there is more accusation and the faintest wave of loathing in her eyes. She is shutting him out. He knows, right there and then, that this conversation is over.

'We will be back in two weeks.'

He wants to tell her he will look out for Charlie. But if he still has to convince her of that, than he has no idea in hell what he is still doing here. He doesn't know how many times he can have the same conversation.

She doesn't say a word when he leaves the kitchen.

* * *

The soft sounds of small town life fill the stables behind the Porter house. A crossbow leans against the wooden frame of the door.

Charlie is saddling her horse. The leather of the saddle feels smooth under the palm of her hands. Behind her, she can hear Monroe enter the stables. She doesn't turn around.

She can feel his tall body behind her, while he is saddling his own horse. When she turns to check on her weapons, _two knives, her gun and a crossbow that is there with her every time it is her and the road_ , he is closer than she thought he would be.

The bare skin of her arm brushes against his tanned skin. She can feel the rough fabric of the deep green cloth he keeps wrapped around his wrist against hers. It is only a subtle change in his shoulders and breathing when she is close to him, but she has noticed it.

Miles is still inside, arguing with her mother. Charlie had left the kitchen fifteen minutes ago. She knows why her mother had looked at her with disbelieve and shocked hurt in her eyes when Charlie had told her that she would not be home for her birthday. Five more days and it is there and she will be twenty five and all she knows is that she wants to be everywhere but here when that happens.

After too much loss and hope that became a thing of her past, after Jason and long bloody battles, _after everything_ , she does not want to celebrate.

She needs the road.

Her mother made a choice, years ago on a narrow path in the woods. In nightmares she still yells for her mother to come back. The arms of a father now gone around her small shoulders, keeping her in one place, preventing her from running after her mother who had left her. She could have stayed. She didn't.

It has been painful, to slowly allow herself to truly feel the magnitude of that decision. It still is. Because it was a decision. Her mother had walked all the way to Philadelphia _. Away from her_. Away from the life they could have had. Away from the truth.

And when she did, a part of their mother daughter bond had been broken into small pieces. Pieces too small to ever find again and put together, there where they belong.

She can't be here to celebrate a birthday she does not want to celebrate. She can't make her mother understand she needs space that is waiting out there for her. So she had walked outside and to the stables to make sure she, her horse, her weapons and their supplies were ready. Away from the argument and the wall of always being right that is her mother.

It should surprise her more that she is able to tolerate Monroe's silent presence so close to her. It should surprise her even more that at moments like these, he always seems to be around. Keeping his mouth shut and with his eyes there, waiting for her to meet, just like on this afternoon when she is carefully checking her gun and ammo. It should surprise her. It doesn't.

'Ready?' His voice is deep.

She just rolls her eyes at him and his inability to keep out how much he craves to fight again. To be out there again with Miles.

Bass looks at her. He can see the tension in her shoulders. He watches how her fingers wrap around her crossbow before she moves it over her shoulder. _Hell_ , that crossbow of hers. She told him once about that night she had almost managed to kill him. On a night when Miles had fallen asleep and they had shared hours before sunrise where they both had been unable to sleep.

He had been surprised as hell she had been willing to talk about it. But he had kept his mouth shut and had let her talk. She had told him how close she had been to killing him with that crossbow, right outside his trailer in New Vegas.

Half the continent had wanted him dead. Miles had tried. But Charlie, _Charlotte._..she _had_ pulled that damn trigger. It is the deadly force of that strength that is so her, that makes him look at her every fucking time he knows he shouldn't.

It is like she can read his damn mind, because her blue eyes meet his. The afternoon sunlight is falling on her hair. And fucking hell, the distance between them is heavy with whatever the fuck has been happening between them from that day she told him he was nothing in an empty swimming pool outside Pottsboro.

Charlie moves her hair over one shoulder to let a slow Texan breeze move over her skin . Little drops of sweat move from neck to her shoulder. She ignores his eyes she can still feel on her.

She guides her horse out of the stables, knowing Monroe is right there behind her. They wait in front of the porch for Miles.

The sound of Miles letting the kitchen door slam shut behind him breaks the late afternoon silence. There is deep misery in Miles' eyes. Misery that finds its way to her heart quickly. Misery she can't ignore.

He won't meet her eyes when he walks to his horse. Normally, Monroe would be Monroe. Aching to throw something in Miles' face after one of the many arguments between Miles and her mom.

But after she watches Miles, she watches him. He is clenching his jaws when he looks at Miles. She notices a shift in his eyes and there are no biting words about Miles playing house with her mom. Not this time.

When they finally leave and Miles and Monroe are riding in front of her, the light of the sun is hitting the hilt of Miles' sword. Charlie notices movements of the curtains of the kitchen window. She turns around one more time.

Her mother is standing there. Watching Miles. Monroe. Watching Her. She can see the disappointment and rejection radiate of her. Seeing her mother standing in front of the kitchen window, makes her remember her mother on another day.

And the memory of the day she had to go, months after the tower, suddenly finds her. And for one moment, the afternoon changes into another day. Into a night where it had been her and her crossbow against her shoulder blades and the decision to disappear for a while.

She remembers her mother's quietness on that night. She remembers how hard it had stung when her mother had not said a word when Charlie told her she had to go and be on her own.

She remembers Miles' embrace, telling her to keep her stupid to a minimum. She remembers how she had felt him swallow, so close to her temple with his wide arms around her, holding her so close to his chest that she had been unsure if he would let her go. Unsure if she could let go of him.

His arms around her and his wide chest against her body had almost made her stay. She remembers how she had taken in his scent, with her nose buried in his neck. She remembers her tears. Tears she had not allowed herself to cry.

It feels like another life. Charlie looks away from her mother when the memory slowly fades. She focuses on the rhythm of the road that is waiting for her and the mission that is waiting for them in Mexico.

She did not know it then, but when she had left Miles behind that night, she had left to walk straight to Monroe.

And now they are both here. Those two men. Riding right there in front of her. Wide shoulders. Dark hair, swords and guns and messy curls and a leather jacket.

And another fight ahead.

* * *

 **Author's Note Happy Birthday to you again! I hope you, and everybody who is reading this story, enjoyed the start of this story. Love from Love**


	2. Chapter 2

The scent of the ocean in her hair

Chapter 2

Bass leans back in his chair. Miles puts a bottle with strong whiskey to his lips. There is an easy silence that fills the kitchen, one that comes from many years of being brothers. Because Miles can deny that all he fucking wants, Bass knows the truth. It's right here with them, at the end of another day and with a bottle on a kitchen table.

Both men are drinking in silence. Blanchard had informed them about a Patriot camp scouts had discovered just across the Mexican border. He gave orders to make sure the whole camp would be wiped off the map. Something he had absolutely no fucking problem with. But Miles had been busy doing his whole pathetic frowning thing in Blanchard's office.

There had been some entertainment. There is a wide grin on Bass' face when he remembers Walnut's face and the panic in the man's eyes when his wife had showed up unannounced in his damn office. Pissed as hell about rumours about some whore that spent the night in his mansion.

It's almost midnight and he is fucking done with a whining brother who used to take a chance to fight when he got one.

Bass lets the whiskey burn in the back of his throat when he looks at Miles. The problem isn't that Miles does not want to fight. The problem is a certain holier than thou bitch who is trying to change his brother into a man he isn't.

'Come on man...it's only a week.' Bass' voice is filled with rough irritation.

Miles is about to say something when another Matheson walks into the kitchen. Bass looks over his shoulder. And she is all curves and hips and Matheson smirk.

Without saying a word she walks to the table and takes the bottle out of his damn hands. Her eyes meet his when her full lips touch the glass of the bottle. His brother is sitting next to him and he knows he really should stop staring at her.

'I'm going.' The tip of her tongue moves over her bottom lip to catch a drop of whiskey.

'How do you know about where we are going, genius ?' Bass asks, shifting in his seat, adjusting his leather jacket. Knowing he will think about her tongue and that smart mouth of hers and all the different fucking things she could do with it, when it will be just him and his right hand back at his place later tonight.

'Doesn't matter. I'm going.'

Miles' sigh fills the kitchen. He moves his hand over his face. There is the start of a splitting headache somewhere behind his eyes. There is a grin appearing on Bass' face at so much of stubborn Charlotte so close.

Miles looks at her before he nods to Bass. 'You know that moron will be there, right?'

'Yeah, so?'

Bass' grin turns into irritation. 'That's nice Miles..I am sitting right fucking here.'

Charlie takes another swig from the bottle before she puts it back on the table. Her eyes are blue certain stubbornness when she looks at Miles.

'Kid...I...'

'I said, I am going.' She casually turns and starts to walk to the hallway.

'And where do you think you're going?' Miles follows her with his eyes.

'To bed.' And with those two words, Charlie swings her hips out of the kitchen.

When Miles looks at Bass again he notices Bass' smirk. 'What are you looking at?' Miles grabs the bottle from the table before Bass can.

'Like you would have been able to say no to her, right?' There is smug satisfaction in his voice, although he can't keep all the warmth out of his eyes when he mentions her. He steals the bottle back from Miles.

'Just shut up, you moron.' Deep eyes find blue ones.

'Dick.' Bass mutters under his breath. He lets the whiskey burn in the back of his throat before he gives the bottle back to Miles.

* * *

One week later

The sun is strong, the Mexican border is close. Bass is riding right behind her. The warmth of the sun teases the drops of sweat that move from his tanned neck to his wide chest. The weight of his sword rests against his strong thigh. He can barely remember a life where that sword wasn't there, as a part of himself.

He is watching how the wind is playing with her hair. It caresses her slender shoulders and the strong lines of her back. And _dammit_ , it accentuates the curves of her damn hips and ass.

Charlie never asked them if she could join them on this mission. She just walked into the kitchen, grabbed that damn bottle out of his hands and told them she was going. There is a stupid as fuck grin on his face when he remembers that night and what he did when he came home before he was able to get some sleep.

Because she can hide it all she wants, she knows she craves this fight almost as much as he does. She needs it.

'And what are you grinning at?' Miles' voice is there all of a sudden. Yanking him out of his thoughts and his eyes away from her.

'I am just enjoying being on the road with my brother again...' His voice is smug and low. 'You got a problem with that?'

Miles' eyes shoot annoyed thunder at him.

Charlie turns in her saddle towards the both of them. She is hungry and tired and she has enough of their bullshit for today.

She rolls her eyes at both men. 'Are you guys going to act like a couple of twelve year olds? Or are we going to find a place to stay for tonight?'

* * *

They find a spot to spend the night when they find an old hangar. It's no longer used now the blackout made it obsolete. The structure is almost forgotten, now nature has claimed the structure for itself. The shadow of the hangar shields them from unwanted eyes.

Willoughby is hundreds of miles behind them. And although the days are filled with warmth, the nights are still filled with coolness.

Bass watches her when they make camp for the night. She is gathering wood for a fire. She hands him the logs of wood but he can see that her thoughts are with his brother who is sitting on a rock a bit further ahead.

Charlie can feel Monroe's eyes follow her as she walks over and sits down next to Miles. She can see how much fills his thoughts just by looking at him. Neither of them talks for a long while. The first stars appear high above them.

'So...you and my mom...'

'What about me and your mom?' He looks up. His eyes meet hers.

'I know things between you and her are hard and I...'

'Why don't you leave the worrying about me and your mom to me Charlie?' There is a deep honest warmth in his voice. He is not trying to push her away like he had done so many times before when she had tried to talk to him when everything was still so different.

Her shoulder leans against his arm when his mind is trying to find a way to make her understand. He needs her to understand this. All this bullshit between him and Rachel isn't something she should worry about after everything life had put her through _. They_ had put her through. But he knows she will.

Because she is unable to look away when people are struggling. With a sudden sharp ache inside his chest, he realizes she is so much like the Bass he grew up with. She has no idea how fucking much she can be just like who used to be sometimes.

He looks at Charlie . 'I love her kid...I really do...' His heart pounds in his chest, he feels the internal fight of sharing a part of himself he really wants to hide from everybody.

'...you just don't know if it's enough?' Her voice is steady in the night.

She can see the acknowledgement in his eyes. There is a sad small smile on her face.

'You really are unusual, you know that right?'

'You said so before...' Charlie smiles back at him before they both sit on a rock and stare into the darkness that is slowly covering the landscape around them. The soft light of the fire behind him. Sitting with him at the end of the day always calms her. Shoulder to shoulder with Miles, without the pressure to talk.

Before she walks back to the fire and a warm blanket because her muscles feel sore and her eyes feel heavy, she moves her hand over his shoulder. She can feel Miles' broad strong shoulder against the palm of her hand. He doesn't look up but everything is said without a word between the both of them.

Bass sits in front of the small fire. His strong back leans against a log behind him. He watches his brother and the rare gentle touch of Charlotte's hand on his shoulder. It is almost too hard to watch and he feels tension rise in his jaws. But he can't look the hell away.

He knows why Miles is sitting there, alone with a bottle and his thoughts. He has seen him like this, many times before. It is something Rachel never ever got, _and he doubts she ever fucking will_. To understand when to give Miles his space when he needs it.

So he sits in front of their fire and adds some more wood to keep it going. Watching Miles. Watching _her_ until she walks back to him and the fire. Her pack and blanket are both close to his damn boots, laying between him and the fire.

Charlie feels the start of a shiver move through her body. She grabs her blanket and feels the welcoming pressure of her blanket around her shoulder and legs while she curls up in front of the fire. She can sense Monroe behind her. She uses her pack as a pillow.

The noises of the fire are mixing with the darkness of the clear night and the scent of wood. There is cool air around them that slowly creeps over the forest ground and into the branches of the trees around them. It is caressing her cheeks and nose.

Bass swallows. He has to. Because every god damn time she falls asleep like that, laying so close to him, something breaks and heals at the same time inside of him.

It's another show of faith from her. Of trusting him. Of knowing she has accepted the fact that he has her back when she is asleep. It's her here. Miles here. Both of them here, on the road, relying on each other to make it through another day.

Charlie yawns. The blanket and the fire are warming her. Her head is close to Monroe' thigh. His scent of leather and being on the road is even closer. Miles comforting and familiar silhouette is there not far away from her and Monroe, a bottle in his hand.

With her eyes closed, she can hear the sounds of the forest she has known almost all her life. The warmth of the fire radiates towards her. Her muscles can finally relax, although her knife is always there, against her hip. Ready for anything and there for so long now, that it became an integral part of who she she is.

At the edge of falling asleep she hears how Miles walks back to her and Monroe. They are going through some strategies for the raid that is only a couple of days away. It quickly turns into two men who are talking about memories _and cities_ , they both remember when they think she is asleep. She falls asleep with their low voices close.

* * *

 **Author's Note** **Chapter three is almost ready to be published. The warm sand of the beach in Mexico will be in that chapter. Thank you so much for your reviews and follows and favorites for last chapter, I really appreciate them. Life is very busy right now, so those wonderful and kind words are so rewarding. Revoinfinite, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for being so patient. A special thank you to Threemagpies for her feedback for this chapter. Love from Love**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note** **Thank you so much for all your very kind reviews, follows and favorites. They mean so much to me. A thank you to Threemagpies for her feedback for this chapter. Love from Love**

The scent of the ocean in her hair

Chapter 3

She can feel the shift in the air. She can sense the change in the landscape. The colour of the sky is deeper. The light is softer and richer at the same time. That light covers the small Mexican town on the horizon in front of them in a late afternoon pastel kind of gold.

Sunset is getting closer. Charlie is happy to feel the ground under her boots again after a full day on the road on her horse. She stretches and lets out a slow, deep breath. Her muscles welcome that breath after all those hours when it was her and a saddle.

They make sure they keep out of sight when they are guiding their horses towards a line of trees on the north side of the town.

Miles stops, turns towards the both of them and then looks at Charlie and Bass, who are now standing in front of him. 'Okay... listen up.'

Miles looks at Charlie. 'No guys.' Charlie crosses her arms before her chest in an amused way. 'No beach parties...' Miles looks at Bass now, '...no booze and no whores tonight. We will leave at dawn.'

When Charlie looks at Monroe's wide eyes that are filled with disappointment, she is unable to stop the sound of her honest laughter that suddenly fills the air around them.

Monroe looks at her with a pissed off blue in his eyes. He meets her clear blue eyes. His eyes light up when he watches how that gorgeous smart ass mouth of hers curls into a smirk. 'What the hell is your problem?'

'You know... you are actually really cute when you look so disappointed, Monroe. I think those matching sad eyes are adorable.' Her eyes lock with his.

Bass is not sure to be pissed or amused now. He _does_ know he is still staring at her and that her mouth is really fucking close. His cock knows too.

She watches how his mouth opens just a little and there is hot wave of satisfaction burning inside her stomach before Miles tells them to stop their bullshit and keep on going. When she follows Miles, her wide smile is still there.

* * *

They find a small house just outside the almost forgotten quiet town. It's hidden between slender trees and the weathered wood of the walls has seen many years. The salt of the ocean and slow steady breeze have slowly claimed the wood.

The rooms of the house are small and dark and the wooden floor creaks in protest under Miles' weight when he walks in.

Charlie forgets about their mission and the camp they will raid tomorrow and barely hears Miles being Miles when he comments on all the crap he finds inside the house. She just knows there is a new sound that reaches her, one she has never heard before. On she is registering fully now she allows herself to hear it. She turns her head towards the deep sound.

Right before they walk inside the house, Bass can sense a shift within her. He can see the exact moment she truly hears the ocean for the very first time. And fucking hell, she is beautiful, there in the last light of the day.

Bass looks at her. Golden light falls on her face, her hair brushes her cheekbones. Her eyes soften, her shoulders relax and there is something in her eyes that is so different from the though hard Charlotte he knows, that she is breaking his fucking heart.

Charlie is not sure what she hears but then she slowly realizes it is there. She slowly understands what she is hearing when the deep flowing sounds reach her. Her mind shows her pictures of the ocean, pictures she has only seen in books.

Miles walks outside. He looks at Charlie who is listening to the sound of the waves. 'God, you are a hick.' There is sarcasm in his tone.

Bass' eyes shoot annoyed thunder at his brother. He feels a stupid wave of protectiveness for her that is now flooding his blood. His voice is low and rough and filled with deep irritation that is aimed at Miles. 'Don't be such a dick.'

He knows Miles is not being a dick on purpose. But when he walks past Miles and into the house he shoots another annoyed steel look at his brother.

Charlie hears their voices in the distance when Miles follows Bass into the house. And right then and there she knows Miles can say all he wants, but she _is_ going to see the ocean. Tonight.

* * *

She waits until Monroe and Miles are bickering about the _no whores and no booze at the local bar before the raid_ policy before she sneaks out. Because she wants this moment all for herself.

She finds a small path with shells hidden in the sand, that connects their house to the beach. The overwhelming new sounds seduce her senses with every step she takes towards what makes her heart beat faster in a new, never felt before, way.

She kicks of her boots at the end of the short path where it flows into the sand of the beach in front of her.

And then, it is there. All of it. Blue and wide. It is blue, _so blue_. It's everything. In that moment, it is everything _to her._ The smooth breeze is filled with salt and golden warmth. It softly touches her skin.

The scent of the ocean and the shape of the waves and the endless wideness of the ocean fill her.

And for the first time in a very long time she feels alive. The ocean fills her with something else, something other than death or hurt or impossible choices. She doesn't have to be anything or anybody to anyone, here on this beach in Mexico.

She just lets the ocean air fill her lungs. She slowly sits down. Her bare feet soak up the warmth of the soft sand. The way the light plays with the colours of the water and the wind lifts up her hair, polish the raw hard edges in her heart.

And she just sits there. And there is no need to fight, no need to feel things that are too hard to feel. It is just her and the beach and the waves and how the water moves. And the light that is changing now the day is slowly moving into the night.

* * *

Miles hears Bass' boots behind him before he sees him. He can't sleep until she is back. And he knows he should be more surprised that Bass somehow knows. But somehow, these days on the road and the both of them being whatever the hell they are, make old brotherhood return. And he can't stop it. He can't explain it to Rachel. He doesn't have to explain it to Charlie, who seems to understand it.

He can't count all those late nights from hell where Bass had sat there, next to him, shoulder to shoulder, making sure he did not have to face the darkness of another long night, old demons and too much whiskey, alone.

He doesn't look up. His eyes are still resting on slender shoulders in the distance on the beach. Miles' elbows are resting on his knees and his back is leaning against one of the walls of the small house. There is a slow kind of raw sadness that fills his deep eyes.

Bass looks at his brother before he sits down next to him. And he can see the painful heartbreak for her in his brother's eyes. And what breaks them both right the hell now, is knowing how much of these days, she deserves.

Hell, she deserves all of them. She deserves days without bloodshed or running, fighting and killing. She deserves them so fucking badly. But she never seems to get them. None of them do these days.

But she doesn't even know that world they got to have. A world of pretending to be soldiers and chasing each other on long summer days, of giggling sisters and the warm arm of a father around your shoulder, and a patient mother with a strong heart and kind eyes, and girls and first cigarettes and first beers.

She doesn't even know what she could have become, how different live could have been, for her. _For all of them._ That thought is torturing his damn mind over and over again and swells like a painful throb in his chest.

They don't talk when they both look at the small path on their left. Her leather boots are left behind at the end of the path that she has followed from their safe house to the start of the beach. Both men watch her when she watches the ocean for the very first time in the changing light. Her hair is casually brushing her shoulders.

Neither of them are willing to admit to the other what it does to them, seeing something in Charlotte they never ever saw before until this night and that reminds them so much of the men they used to be. They don't have to.

They already know.

* * *

She never sleeps well before a fight. Her body is too ready for whatever will be next. Her mind is already filled with the feeling of her crossbow in her hands and the position of her knife against her hip.

But the ocean has softened the roughest edges of another raid and another fight that sunrise will bring to her and gave her a couple of hours of deep dreamless sleep.

When she wakes up, the reassuring sound of waves flows into the dark room. She can taste the ocean on her lips. And then, there is another reassuring but a lot more annoying sound reaching her through the wall on her right. The sound of her uncle snoring.

She tries to stubbornly tune out the sound of the low waves of snoring from Miles. But not only is she awake now, she is also thirsty.

And somewhere far away in her thoughts she knows it is past midnight and that it's another day on the road in another safe house. And that it is her birthday. But she can't think of that. She won't. She can't. So she lets the nightly sounds of the ocean outside drown that thought.

Her feet touch the wooden floor when she gets out of her bed. The moonlight breaks the dark and fills the house with grey and soft light in the darkness. She walks to Miles' bedroom and finds him passed out on a bed that is too small for him. With a grin at the sight of a tall uncle and a stupid small bed her eyes follow the necklace that is always there around his neck.

His breathing changes for a moment, but she knows that he knows it is her. Her fingers brush his shirt when she adjusts the blanket over his shoulder

Bass watches her moving a damn the blanket around his brother's shoulders from his place in the kitchen. His mind is already filled with strategies and destroying that patriot camp fifteen miles south west of their current safe house. And maybe Miles can sleep anywhere he fucking wants, he can't. Not when a fight is so damn close.

His fingers are eager and hungry, waiting for the feeling of the cool metal of his blades and gun. He is already breathing the fight that is ahead of him, and them, together with the satisfaction of blood and revenge.

Maybe he should look the hell away, but she is right fucking there in his brothers room across the hallway. She has not seen him. Yet. She is all bare feet, slender toned bare legs and in her tank and some damn fucking panties. He is silently cursing when the fabric of her tank plays with her curves and smooth skin when she adjusts the blanket over Miles' shoulders

He has to place his weight on his other feet when his cock rebels inside his damn pants. He takes another swig from Miles' emergency whiskey. His mind screams at him she is not wearing a bra when he watches how her tits move under that tank of hers when she walks outside Miles' room. As far as he is concerned, Charlotte without a fucking bra so damn close in the middle of the fucking night, is an emergency.

He lets more whiskey burn in the back of his throat, trying to sooth his cock when she walks towards the kitchen.

Her mouth is still dry and she is still thinking about water, when she realizes he is there. All of him. Leaning against the kitchen counter. He is inher way. Because the bottle of water she wants is standing right behind a wide chest and smug blue eyes. The asshole knows.

Without talking and with the feeling of his eyes on her she grabs the bottle of water from the kitchen counter that is standing behind him. She drinks from the cool water. After she removes some drops of water from her lips with the back of her hand, he offers her Miles' flask of whiskey.

She smirks at him before she accepts it and puts it to her lips. 'Couldn't help but steal his whiskey?' her voice sounds a bit raw from the lack of sleep.

'Like you have not figured out where Miles keeps his whiskey, genius.' Bass has to fight back a honest grin while he ignores how hot as fuck her voice sounds hours after midnight.

His mind flashes to images of how raw he could make her sound, after he showed her what he could to do her. He swallows and looks to the floor in front of him. But it is impossible to ignore her tonight.

She leans into the kitchen counter next to him. The wood of the cabinet behind her is pressing against the back of her legs. Knowing her bare leg is touching his jeans. But he is not moving, so she is not either. His strong, muscled upper arm brushes her breast.

This is not the first time he catches her in just her tank and panties. After almost two years on the road she is used to so much of him so close to her.

This is not the first time she can't sleep and she finds him awake as well. Brooding and thinking, his eyes staring in the distance, knowing he is with their next fight.

This is not the first time she somehow finds him next to her, sharing whiskey and with a deceptive indifference in his eyes. After a fight, after another fight from hell with Miles. When he can't sleep. When she can't sleep. When sunrise is still too far.

But tonight, there is more in this small kitchen in this small house in a sleepy Mexican town near a beach.

When she gives him Miles' flask and his hand reaches for it, his eyes meet hers when she tilts her head to look at him. She is not sure if it is the heat in his eyes or the warmth of his breath she feels on her face.

But then she realizes it doesn't matter. It is still him and so much of him. And her mouth is suddenly dry again. She lets the moment burn between the both of them.

But this is her and this is him, so she takes a step away from him. Casually thanking him for the whiskey with a smirk that feels too forced. Telling herself she needs to at least try and get some sleep.

Telling herself this lonely moment and some of Miles' whiskey she is sharing with him does not mean anything.

She almost makes it to the door when his low voice fills the kitchen and the space between them. Making her freeze and unable to move.

'Happy birthday, kid.' She doesn't look up. She can't. She feels his rough low voice inside her belly when his words echo in her head.

And when she is finally able to allow herself to meet his eyes her heart makes a small jump she can feel inside her chest and then it starts to beat with a new force. He remembers. He knows. He remembers and he has opened his stupid mouth. She should be pissed. But she can't. Because there is so much low, raw, deep honesty that radiates from his eyes and creeps into his voice.

She can't be pissed. Not when he shows her something new that rips open something inside of her. Something she knows she can't put back where it once was.

It's not about her stupid birthday. It's not just about him remembering that, although she has no clue in hell why he would know and why he would even care.

It's about that look and about those eyes of him that always seem to be there and that linger on her too long. It is the rare vulnerable gentle look in his eyes only she gets to see. He hides it well, this part of him. But somehow, with her, he changes in something he, they, should not be.

It is about the smouldering look in his eyes that makes her forget to walk back to her room.

Bass is not sure what she is going to do. But then, she fucking looks at him like she had done once before on those steps in front of that church on the night he arrived with Davis and at the end of the day where he had lost Connor and had made a choice to fight with Miles. _With her_.

And it is the smallest of nods, the fucking softest start of a strong honest smile with genuine open surprised gratitude in her eyes that makes it suddenly painful to breath.

She meets his eyes and doesn't look away. And he forgets all about strategies. The world out there can burn to the ground right the hell now, because when he looks at her, she doesn't look away.

When she walks to her bedroom, he can still feel that damn smile of hers and everything she did not say with words, written in her eyes, inside his damn chest like a fucking bullet wound.


	4. Chapter 4

The scent of the ocean in her hair

4.

The sound of the ocean and the waves that roll over the sand of the beach, drown the echo's of yesterday's battle. The wind lifts up her hair.

She is on her way to find Miles, who disappeared an hour ago with a bottle of whiskey. She lets the memories of last night disappear into the never ending movements of the waves in front of her, so they can take care of them for a while.

 _She is out of breath. Her mind is filled with a focussed will to survive and everything Miles and Bass have ever taught her. She ends one more kaki threat with her knife. They waited until sunset. They talked about their strategy one more time. And now, it is silent around them while the harsh breathing of Miles and Bass mix with hers._

 _The raid is over. They got the intel they needed. Another camp is gone, another threat is defeated. Charlie turns around. The first thing she is able to see after and beyond the battle, are his blue eyes. They come into focus as the first new thing that matters again now this fight is over. He searches for her eyes and he waits until she looks at him._

 _Miles is with her in a second. He moves his fingers under her chin, lifting her head so she has to meet his eyes now. Making sure she isn't hurt and is okay. When he is sure she is okay he finds Bass' eyes and nods to him, telling him he wants to get the hell out of here._

The lush sounds of the waves can't tune out the way his eyes found hers. The blue of the water brings her back to his eyes and him. His name fills her mind like the rhythm of the waves. Bass...Bass. His name is something new her minds plays with while she walks through the sand and looks at the ocean.

Bass looks at her, alone and walking over the beach. His boots leave prints in the sand as he follows her. One look at her and he can tell how far away and lost in her own thoughts she is.

He had exchanged a look with Miles last night after the raid, when they had walked back to their safe house with her close to the both of them. They both remember Austin. He never wants to see her that broken again.

 _When adrenaline is pumping through his blood, his first thought after the last kaki son of a bitch goes down is about her. With the taste of revenge so close and his swords in his hands, his chest swells with something fucked up when his eyes are the first thing she is looking for. And for one damn second, they are breathing this moment in together._

 _He watches how Miles walks over to her, lifting her head with his fingers under her chin so she has to meet his eyes now._

 _Under the cover of darkness, they return to their safe house. She curls up on the couch and is asleep within minutes. This time, it is his brother that covers her shoulders with a blanket. And he has to fight a deep urge to touch her, to be the man that moves that damn blanket around her shoulders._

He quickens his pace to catch up with her. Charlie is still lost in her thoughts but it is his voice close and next to her that pulls her out of that world.

'You all right?'

His voice is the kind of the low she can actually feel inside of her. Her clear eyes find his. She nods yes to him. She knows he is not going to ask endless questions. He just lets her be who she needs to be right now.

'Just looking for Miles.'

There is a grin on his face while he spots his brother in the distance. 'Well, I think you just found him, kid.'

She follows his eyes. They walk until they find a tall palm tree and find Miles. Miles' version of spending her birthday at the beach is falling asleep under a palm tree with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He is snoring.

Earlier today, Miles had wished her a happy birthday with a genuine smile on his face and his familiar arms around her. Bass had muttered something insulting about puppies or kittens. Miles had told him to shut up. She had just buried his nose in his neck and smiled.

She stops before Miles and crosses her arms before her chest. Charlie and Bass exchange a grin. Bass won't tell her but hell, it's good to see his brother like this. He looks younger and relaxed, passed out with a bottle in his hand. This is the brother he grew up with. And he knows that he woman standing on his right brings that man back to them both, without even knowing it herself.

Bass knows he should wake Miles up. Hell, they are here for her birthday and the moron is snoring his way through it. But there is a part of him that screams don't. Because fuck, that part of him wants that smart amused smirk of hers all for himself.

And he is many things, but right now he is also just a man with her close. So he lets his brother sleep.

'Come on..' he nods to the beach behind the both of them. To his surprise she follows him without a glare from hell and without her hands on her hips that always drives him crazy in a lot of different fucking ways. He knows it is pathetic, but his chest swells with some more fucked up things again.

Charlie fingers casually brush his upper arm, when she shares the shore line with him. It feels easy. Nothing has been easy the past few years. She experiences a closeness to Monroe she has only experienced with him in battle. So instead of saying something or pushing him away with her eyes or words, she kicks out her boots because she needs to feel the sand under her bare feet.

The beach is empty. There is no one around but him. The water softly plays with her ankles every time a new wave rolls over the sand to find her. She looks at him before her eyes follow the blue of the water in front of her to the horizon again.

Bass looks at her. The sun lightens up her hair. She moves some hair out of her face with her slender fingers. And just like the waves who keep on finding the beach, her eyes keep on finding his. And suddenly, he wishes he is wearing his leather jacket so he could put his damn hands in his pockets.

He wants to ask her if she is enjoying her birthday. But he remembers his , that first endless raw day after he had lost his parents. So he keeps his mouth shut.

Another wave that finds her feet makes Charlie wonder how the cool, salty water of the ocean would feel against her skin. And after an hour of asking herself that same question over and over again, she decides enough is enough. She starts opening the button her jeans.

'What are you doing, genius?' He grunts but not with a lot of effort. It is hard to miss the amused blue in his eyes.

She decides to use her bra and panties as a bikini. Not that she has ever owned one. But she has seen them before, in magazines. And today, she wants to be a normal girl in a bikini on a beach. With a guy. Who happens to be Monroe. She stops herself there.

'What does it look like?' Her tank lands somewhere on her right. She has enough of thinking about the water. She needs to feel it.

Bass grins. It looks like it is his lucky day. But he is not going to tell her that because she is still Charlotte and she still might cut of his balls right here on this fucking beach.

When she runs into the water and the first wave meets her, she turns around. 'Are you too old for this shit, Monroe ?' She almost yells, to reach over the sound of the waves.

His last name escapes from her lips in an unintended hot tease and invitation that even surprises herself.

His eyes light up. His body responds to the way she plays with his last name. He follows her with his eyes. Charlotte fucking Matheson. She has never in the history of ever been afraid of him.

Charlie knows his grin should not reach her the way it does. She runs into the waves before he can say anything back to her and his eyes get a change to provoke new things inside of her.

She swims. The water flows against her skin. She floats on her back, letting the waves take care of her. She watches the sky.

This day seems to exist outside of the life that she normally lives. Everything seems different. Or maybe, it has always been there. Maybe she is different. And she knows he is there on the beach. Close. Bass.

Bass sits down in the shadow of a rock alcove that separates the beach from the land behind it and that shields them from unwanted eyes, behind him. He puts his elbows on his knees and just watches her swim. He watches how she lets her hands flow through the water while she floats on her back. But most of all he looks at her while she lets her guard down, so fucking close to him.

And then, she turns her head and looks at him. And it is one simple fucking look from her that tells him that what he felt and saw in her eyes from the moment she told him to go to hell near a campfire isn't just happening in his head, that makes him curse at life.

She is beautiful as hell with her full lips and her tanned skin in the middle of so much blue. He is pretending that the way the wet fabric of those panties and bra cling against her skin, does not make him want her. He has been pretending he doesn't want her for a long time.

It was easy to be blown away by her loyal strength in Philly. But then he met her. All of her. All of Charlotte. And things go so fucking messed up that he had to put distance between him and her, because sometimes he just feels too raw with her around.

But hell, he wants her. He wants to know how the weight of her body would feel against his chest. He wants to know how she tastes when she moans in his mouth. He wants to know how far he can push her.

He wants those hips in his hands when she is riding him. He wants to hear her come. He has been pretending he has never heard her come for a fucking long time now. Out there on the road. She is always quiet, but she is never quiet enough.

He wants to be the man that makes her come. He needs to wrap his fingers around his damn cock, while he thinks about wrapping those fingers around her neck, before thrusting deep inside of her. But he just curses. He groans. And he is happy he borrowed Miles' emergency whiskey a bit longer.

* * *

When she gets out of the water, small drops of salty ocean water drip from her hair onto his shirt and muscled arms when she sits down next to him.

There is a mask of indifference on his face when he looks at her before he continues his stare in the ocean. She should roll her eyes at him. In fact, she does roll her eyes at Monroe being all Monroe. But there is something in the lines of his face, in the way his shoulders feel next to her, that does something to her that she can't deny.

The sand is warm, even in the shadow of the rock alcove. She looks at tanned skin and hard muscles that define his body. When her eyes follow the lines of the deep v of his shirt to the strong lines of his neck, she has to stop herself from licking her bottom lip.

For one moment she is tempted to reach out. To stretch her body to him and over him and to feel what it would be like to have that tall, battle hardened body under her.

He makes the mistake of looking at her when he feels her eyes on him. Her hair falls in long, wet waves over her shoulder. Her mouth is close. Her lips are full. Her skin caressed by water and the sun.

For one moment he craves to wrap his fingers into her hair and to pull her close. But this is too easy. A simple fucking afternoon with a hot girl on a beach. He can suddenly taste cool beer. She, this, the ocean, her, Charlie, she brings out a part of him that belongs to another life. She brings out the man he cannot be anymore.

When she is sure that he is going to do something, anything, that makes her heart beat faster, he stops. There is familiar tension in his shoulders and jaws. His eyes are cooler now.

The sun slowly descends and touches the beach and sky with a golden warmth.

'Are you going to share?' Her voice finally breaks the silence.

'Share what?' He asks roughly. He finally meets her eyes.

She has to fight a smile at the way he is trying to make his voice sounds like cool, in control Monroe.

'That whiskey you stole from Miles.'

'Borrowed.' He grunts back.

'Whatever.' She tries to keep her voice flat and into her usual I don't care Monroe mode. But she fails because a smile betrays her.

He tries to keep her out, but there is something in her voice and the way her face softens that makes that impossible.

He hands her the flask of whiskey and doesn't say a word. Her fingers meet the calloused skin of his finger tips when they touch, before she puts the flask to her lips.

* * *

The ocean breeze is warm against her skin, Miles' flask is almost empty and the sand clings to her smooth legs when she breathes out slowly. It is too close to a sigh, a sigh Bass notices immediately. He knows what she is thinking about. 'We should go find Miles.'

'Yeah, we should.' She looks at him longer than she has too. There is a slow haze that plays with the blue in her eyes.

When she slips her tanned legs into her jeans and the fabric of her tank moves over her breasts, she notices the good, lazy feeling in her muscles. She also notices how she feels with him around. She can feel his eyes on her. And there is something raw, a struggle, a sadness and a need all at one in his eyes.

She is about to start walking back to Miles, his bottle and his palm tree when his curse stops her.

'Dammit..' It is a harsh, rough whisper. Maybe he is a fucking idiot. She is definitely going to kill him for this. But right now, he needs her more than thinking about that last option.

Maybe it's the warmth of the sun and Miles' whiskey. Maybe it is how the ocean on her lips makes her feel like she doing more than just breathing and make it through another day. But when he takes a step closer to her, she doesn't take a step away from him. And she is standing there, in front of a wide chest and blue eyes.

The sand under her feet is warm, his shoulders are wide and his hand moves under her tank to press her against his chest. He is tall and so close. And there, in the shadow of the rock alcove on a late afternoon, Bass kisses her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** It is finally here, chapter four! And I am so sorry writing and publishing this took me so long. I hope you enjoyed this day at the beach. Revoinfinite, thank you so much for being so patient. And thank you so much to all of you for your patience! I loved your reviews and kudo's for last chapter. They mean so much to me, so thank you for all your feedback and for sharing your thoughts with me. I am working on chapter five and the epilogue and I want to publish chapter five next Thuesday! Love from Love


	5. Chapter 5

The scent of the ocean in her hair

5.

She likes how the sound of the ocean changes now the first stars appear in the night sky. Charlie watches them from her place outside and close to Miles' familiar shoulders.

Miles is sitting next to her. His fingers are casually wrapped around the bottle they are sharing. Bass is sitting across from them. The subtle light of a group of candles is playing with the deep green glass of the bottle.

She had found some almost forgotten candles in one of the kitchen cabinets and she had taken them with her when she had walked of the steps of the porch. The candles cast shadows against the wooden wall of the house and the branches of the trees close to the house.

The light adds depth to the metallic colours of Miles' necklace. It adds more texture to Bass' scruff. It reveals all the different golden colours in her eyes.

The house and trees are a natural shield to create a space under the stars close to the ocean to drink and to just be for a while. The golden warmth of a day at the beach has moved into those hours before midnight when the sky is clear and the night is still so young. Nobody even makes an attempt to get up and some sleep.

When Bass puts the bottle to his lips her eyes have to follow the lines of his moustache that flow into his beard. She can't stop. Not now she knows how that mouth feels against hers. Not now she knows how he tastes.

Bass tries to focus on damn bottle in his hands. But the candles add a soft glow that touches her damn skin. He gives her the bottle when it is her turn. He can't ignore the way she accepts it without a single moment of loathing or doubt. _Fuck._

Charlie takes another sip and when she can feel the burn of the booze in the back of her throat, it warms her from within. His eyes meet hers and everything that happened in the shadow of a rock alcove, rushes back to her.

She puts the bottle to her lips again and refuses to look away. This is them and has been them for such a long time now. Eyes locking, stares that burn.

Bass untangles his eyes from hers. Miles demands more whiskey and Charlie grins at him before she hands over the bottle to him.

'Hey remember that girl in that bar who was so drunk that she almost gave you a fucking lap dance after just one drink?' Bass asks Miles. His voice is laced with smug pride.

Charlie is used to Miles telling Bass to shut up at this point. She is used to the mocking tone in Bass' voice when he apologizes to Miles right after that. But tonight, they keep on talking when memories rush back to the present.

'Megan...' Miles points at Bass with the bottle in his hands when he answers him. His grin is filled with slow amused pride for remembering her name. Bass can't help but grin back at him.

And she drinks and just watches the two men who are sitting so close to her. Two identical grins appear on their faces, and it changes them in so many ways that it almost hurts.

They include her in their stories that makes her heart ache for the both of them in a strange new way and yet, they fill her with something good. So she drinks, shuts up and just listens to the both of them.

Bass can't fucking believe what is happening. He sees his brother, sitting right there in front of him. Miles makes another lame joke. But Bass doesn't give a shit about that joke. What he does give a shit about is how that damn joke makes Charlie laugh so hard that the sound of her laughter fills the space between them. His eyes won't let go of her and his brother.

Bass' heart beats faster inside his chest. Charlie laughs. Hell, Miles even smiles. He can't remember the last time he saw him like this, so like the man he used to know. Charlie and him, they are so alike that it almost breaks his fucking heart. He swallows that last thought away.

The hours slowly melt into the night with the dance of the small flames of the candles. Charlie yawns. When her eyes start to feel heavy because of a day filled with sea air and sunlight on her skin, she finally gets up. She stretches and the sand on the wooden floor of the porch tickles her feet.

'Night kid.' Miles' voice is filled with less burden than he usually carries with him.

'Night.' She grins at him.

'Goodnight. ' Bass' voice is low while it breaks the quietness of the night. His eyes say even more. Bass can taste the _Charlotte_ in the air. And hell, maybe she does too.

She is standing close to the kitchen door. And right before she walks inside, his eyes are so focussed on her that she can't move or look away. The sound of her voice changes, but lucky for her, her uncle is drunk enough to not notice it.

'Goodnight.' The unspoken _Bass_ gets lost in the way he looks at her.

* * *

 _Dammit._ The heat in the small space around him irritates him. It's too damn hot in here to have the memory of her soft, full tits against his chest on repeat in his damn head.

Sitting close to Miles and across from her tonight had quickly turned into torture and him telling himself to stop thinking with the wrong head. They had shared a bottle of whiskey. But he had only been able to taste her.

Bass curses in the dark. He kicks the sheets away from his thighs. He sits up and while his bare feet touch the wood of the floor, he considers to go to the kitchen to grab the bottle Miles had left there on the kitchen counter. But whiskey won't stop him wanting her.

It won't stop his mind asking that fucking stupid question of what it would be like, to open that damn bra of hers and to cup her tits with his hands. He can almost feel them against the palms of his hands. He tells himself to stop being a fucking sixteen year old. It's never going to happen.

'Fuck..' he curses again before he moves his hand over his face.

* * *

Charlie lazily moves her fingers through her hair. The pillow under her head is soft, the bed big enough to be comfortable.

She listens to the ocean. Her room is filled with shadows and the breeze that has travelled from the ocean to her small window. She had refused to wash of the salt of the ocean when sunset was close.

It's dark. It's quiet. Her thoughts are filled with him. And she remembers how Bass had taken his time to slowly kiss her. She remembers how she had let him. She remembers hot breath and a hard body so close to hers. She remembers how out of breath she was by the time he had slowed down the kiss.

She remembers the raw burning sadness in his eyes when he finally stepped away from her.

And every time she is back with her feet in the warm sand of the beach and her hands on his strong, wide upper arms, her mind takes her back to him and that moment that lingers here with her in this room.

 _She can practically hear the curse when his mouth is still on hers. She can feel the struggle in the way he is breathing and holding her. Calloused fingers in her hair, a strong masculine hand gently on the skin of her shoulder blades under her tank. She can feel more of his struggle when he is slowing down this moment. And when he pulls his mouth away from hers, she can't step away. She should. But she just leans into him and he lets her. Her forehead touches his scruff and his hand is still there against her back._

She curses at herself for the way she had wanted to let the moment burn longer. She had wanted to try that kiss, but him letting her close when she had let herself lean into him is a completely different line she had crossed with him.

She doesn't want to cross it with Monroe. She doesn't want to cross it with anyone. Not after everything her life has been.

It had been easy, _too easy_ , to get lost in him. _He_ had made it easy and tempting and everything that a part inside of her screamed for, before he had stepped away and they had walked back to Miles.

She has left her window open, unable to shut out the night breeze. She doesn't want to sleep. But just as much as she craves to keep on listening to the ocean, she can't stop thinking of him.

Today has made her feel alive. _Seen._ Tomorrow they will get back on the road and they will go back to their lives. To everything that is waiting there. Tomorrow everything could change again. It probably will. That is her life. _Their lives_. She knows that. She will never not know that.

But there is something about today. And as long there is ocean salt on her skin, she refuses to let go of today.

* * *

The unexpected sound of her in the hallway stopping on the other side of his door, pump a wave of adrenaline through his body. Years of surviving in a blackout world and more years of ruling a Republic have taught him to never, ever let his guard down.

Bass looks at his damn door opening in the middle of the fucking night. And then, it is her and all of her, there.

The silence lingering in the house and the cool metal of the doorknob against her hand accompany her while she can feel his eyes roaming over her body. Charlie finds him awake and sitting on the edge of the bed in the middle of the room. His sheets are a mess, his dark blonde sweaty curls too.

His leather jacket hangs over a chair in the corner of the room. His boots are on the floor. His swords are leaning against the side of the bed. His gun is on the nightstand.

When she closes the door behind her, she tells the wild rhythm of her heartbeat to slow down. She knows she wants this. And she is done walking away from what she wants.

In the middle of a lot of curses inside is head his mind makes an inventory. Panties. Tank. No bra. _Fucking hell._

It's the way she moves her tongue over her bottom lip that tells him she is nervous. She is hiding it well but he knows her well enough by now. And there is something heavy in the air that makes his heart beat inside a chest the way it does when he dives into another fight.

He soaks up how she starts walking to his damn bed without even blinking. And for one moment he knows how her prey feels, when she is out there in the woods and hunting. Her steps are slow but certain and with every step she takes from the door to him, he feels more steel lust.

'Can't sleep?' His voice is filled with smugness but she can see how he swallows.

And another heartbeat tells her he knows why she is here. Another look at him and the steel want in his eyes tells her how much she is wanted here.

She doesn't stop until she reaches his bed. Until she reaches him. 'Shut up.'

'All right.' Bass' voice is low and warmth and husky want. There is amusement in his tone that moves to the blue of his eyes.

And then, he just watches her.

She puts her hand on his shoulder to balance herself. She straddles him and slowly lands on hard thighs. Her knees touch the soft mattress under her. The inside of her legs meet his upper legs.

Her hands move around his face so she can find the right angle. She needs him to shut up. She needs this. So, this time, she kisses him. Long and hard.

He knows he should stop this. Fuck, he does. But he doesn't want to. He wants her here in his fucking lap. His mind races to all the different things he ever wanted to try with her.

His dick throbs between her legs and so close to her panties. And he can't fucking resists to let her know how hard he is and what he could do if she lets him.

Charlie can feel him shift under her so his dick meets her clit and her mind screams only one thing. _Arrogant, smug asshole._

Bass has to fight back a satisfied grin at her angry response. The way her lips meet his now is more violent. He kisses her harder until his tongue soothes her irritation and he can feel her leaning into him more.

He lazily moves his hand through her hair. He is letting her decide where she wants to take this.

Charlie feels his wide, hard thighs behind her. Her panties melt against the deep blonde curls above his hard cock. Her hands move over his bare chest, her fingers caress the skin and flow to wide shoulders. With her free hand she makes a trail from her neck to her breasts and she doesn't stop before she can feel the wet, heated sensitive skin inside of her panties.

It is powerful and everything, the way he looks at her when she is slowly deciding what to do with him. She rubs herself over his cock. Slow and hard and soft. Her breathing is deeper now. She doesn't take off her panties when she demands his cock all to herself.

She just moves the wet fabric out of the way with slippery fingers. She never looks away. His eyes pierce into hers. She wants him to know it is her, her warmth and wetness that move around his wide cock now. And one second, one heartbeat of steel blue tell her he needs her to know it is him, deep and hard inside of her.

Bass grunts when he can feel her wrapped around him and she fucking stops moving. This time he is not one some fucking beach, _thinking_ of her. Thinking of her hair against his chest and his hands around her hips. Thinking of how she would look when she would ride him. This time she is here.

When she finally makes a choice for a slow, deadly deep rhythm , she is there. He needs to remind himself over and over again. His fingers are digging deeper into her skin and thighs.

She watches him watch her. And she can just feel it, that moment when Monroe claims her. All of her. She should be offended. Pissed. She should stop this. But the harsh grip of his hands on her hips only makes her want more.

Bass can't control himself anymore. He moves his arms around her back and yanks her closer to where he needs to feel her. Her breasts press against his chest. One large hand disappears into her hair. His kiss is hungry. His grunt that fills the quiet room is deep.

'Put your legs around me...' his voice is low and hoarse.

It's an order she wants to rebel against but it feels to good to fight him. There is more than enough time for that tomorrow.

Bass moves them both to the middle of the bed. She looks into hungry blue and he finds a need in her eyes that almost makes it too hard to look at her and think about every single that is them and that is in their way. But this is her, this is Charlotte so he keeps looking at her.

He wraps his arms around her middle to help her find the rhythm she needs. He feels his dick throb inside of her and _fuck_ he needs to come. But this is not about him, this is about her first.

She leans back. Her hands are on the mattress behind her now to make room for his mouth on her breasts.

'Fucking hell...' he curses, when she gives him a view of her perfect tits, flat stomach and her wet, deep blonde curls so close to his cock. She makes it impossible to not watch how he fucks her, to not see how hot and tight she is. It just makes him lose himself in her even more.

He licks the outside of her right breast before he moves his lips over her nipple. She is breaking every rule that she unknowingly made. Her hands have to move through his hair when his mouth is on her skin. He kisses and licks his way to her neck and from her throat to the sensitive space between her breasts. And all she can is feel him deep inside of her.

Sweat moves from his forehead and over the strong lines of his neck to his chest. Bass can only watch and fuck her. But then, she closes her eyes and her breathing becomes harsher and more out of control. And the only place where he wants her to come, is wrapped against his damn chest and in his fucking arms with her legs wrapped around his damn middle.

Charlie melts around him and soaks up his harsh grunts when her orgasm is about to make her have to surrender in a way she never did to Monroe.

Something inside of her is screaming that they are crossing a new line. But then, warm, large hands wrap around her body. Creating a space where it is her and the way he breathes and smells and tastes and feels against her skin. And without a thought she lets go, hidden in his arms and with her body wrapped around him.

* * *

 **Author's Note** **I am working on chapter six and the epilogue. I am also planning a new story and the first chapter is almost done. I hope I can share that with all of you soon. Thank you to all of you for your support and for sharing the love we have for fan fiction, Revolution and stories! Love from Love**


	6. Chapter 6

The scent of the ocean in her hair

6.

The sound of the waves outside flows through the dark room. A sea breeze plays with the curtains. Charlie lets her second orgasm flow through her body. The mattress under her is soft. Bass is close enough to feel the hard lines of his body against hers.

'Enjoying your birthday, Charlotte?'

His voice is low and smug. But she can hear what he can't hide from her. She turns her head his way.

'Yeah...' She smiles.

'Good...' His voice is lower this time.

He wasn't touching her five seconds ago. He is now. He is making slow trails with his fingers over the sensitive skin of her back. He is touching her skin in the same way the sun had caressed her earlier today. It is personal. Him and her, here in the same bed.

She lets her eyes move over his moustache. And when she will look back, she will remember how everything changed here, so close to the ocean and with her warm breath so close to his skin.

Bass looks at her. If she thinks he is letting her go back to her room, than this time she is fucking delusional. He knows they need to get back on the road. He knows they need to deal with everything that is out there. But right now, the whole world can go to hell. He just wants her.

The way he looks at her makes her bite her bottom lip. It makes her wonder why he would care about this day, and _her,_ so much. But he doesn't give her time to think. He moves his hands around her face to cup her cheeks before he moves his mouth over hers.

A pale moon appears above the dunes and the ocean. The sound of the rhythm of the waves lingers around the house. But all she can hear is his hoarse low voice close to her ear when he tells her about all the things he is going to do to her before sunset will find them.

* * *

She's asleep. He isn't. She is breathing against his chest. Her skin feels soft against his. He really wants to fall asleep next to her. But she can't be here when Miles wakes up. Because he knows Miles will fucking kill him when he finds her here, wrapped around him. And he really needs to stay alive so he can fuck her again. His dick is already waking up with all the possibilities of him and her alone. He knows he is thinking with the wrong head but his mind is torturing him with images of burying himself deep inside of her again.

He groans. He knows it's time to move. He gathers her in his arms and slowly walks her to her own bed at the other side of the house. He has carried her in his arms before. There had been thunder in the air and an amount of rage in his blood that had surprised him. He can almost taste that rage again, when he remembers those assholes who had hurt her in that damn bar.

But this time, she is safe. She warm and asleep. He is holding her and nobody is going to touch her. He has no idea if what happened tonight will happen again. He knows he wants her again.

When he slowly guides her head to her pillow, she doesn't wake up. He had to watch how Miles moved a blanket around her shoulders to keep her warm. But tonight, he is the one who moves a warm blanket over her shoulders. The pale light of the moon illuminates her face. She mumbles something in her sleep. Bass gently moves his hand over her shoulder until she relaxes under his touch again.

* * *

She wakes up in her own bed. The sunlight that streams inside the small room is bright. The sounds of birds flying high above the ocean fill the morning air She takes a deep breath. She can still taste _him_ on her lips.

She has a vague memory of Bass carrying her back to her own bed. But her muscles had felt too heavy to open her eyes. His chest had been wide. His scent had been close. She had known she was safe and that he was going to take care of her. And for once, she had let him.

A smile appears on her face when she finds her tank and panties on the bed next to her. She knows he put them there. But then her smile fades. She knows what last night meant to her. It was more than sex. It was more than a quick fuck. But she isn't sure he feels the same. She doesn't know what it will be like to see him when the night has faded and daylight has moved the night into day. A rare wave of vulnerability fills her thoughts.

She does know that when she will walk outside and his eyes find hers, she will find what last night meant to him there in his eyes.

She gets dressed. She finds her boots close to the bed. She grabs her weapons. She drinks a glass of water.

And when she finally walks off the steps of the porch and into the morning light, he is there, taking care of his weapons in the shadows of a large tree across the house. His eyes are there. It's one of those moments where time seems to slow down. And when his eyes light up when his eyes finds hers, she knows last night will not be the only night she will spend in his bed or in his arms.

'Morning kid.' It's Miles voice that pulls her away from him and her heart that is beating with more force.

And even though she should be looking at Miles, Bass' eyes won't let her go. She tells her heartbeat to slow down. She tells herself to focus on Miles.

'Hey…' She can see Miles is hung over. She has seen the empty bottle on the kitchen table. She knows he is drinking to outrun his demons.

She sits down next to him. They listen to the ocean. She lets the clean, salty ocean air wake her up while she watches how Bass cleans his guns.

Miles groans and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers before he gets up to walk to the horses. They need to get them ready for the miles that are out there waiting for them. She follows him. She moves her hand over the brown manes of the horse in front of her. They don't talk. She can see the same unwillingness to go get back on the road in his eyes that she feels inside of her.

'Miles…if you and my mom are not going to make it, you know that we will still be okay, right?'

When Miles can finally look at her, the honesty in her eyes hurts. His tongue moves over his bottom lip in a nervous way. He feels a wave of love for her he can't push away.

Charlie looks at him with strength in her eyes. One look at the shift in his deep eyes and she knows he has heard her. She knows he knows that she is here and that she is not going anywhere. But she also knows he needs his space. She nods to the house behind her. ' I am going to grab my stuff.'

She waits until he nods at her before she walks back to the house.

When Miles looks up, he expects to see Charlie again. But this time, Bass is there.

Bass can see the doubt and struggle in Miles' eyes. He has kept his mouth shut to give Miles the space he needs. He has kept his mouth shut because he doesn't want to hurt Charlie.

But he grew up with him. He knows Miles is struggling with this whole playing house with Rachel thing. He knows that for some reason Miles really loves her. But he also knows things between them are quickly going to hell. He has heard the fights. He knows how much their fights hurt Charlie. He has seen the cool accusations in Rachel's eyes. He has to watch how Miles' guilt is ripping him apart from the inside.

Miles and her have been a fight of wanting and not wanting to want from the moment they had started to screw around behind Ben's back. And Rachel will probably never believe him, but he had hated how they had treated Ben. And she will never understand, but Bass hates how it has changed Miles. Because it did.

He heard what Charlie said to Miles before she had walked back to the house. He has never been able to keep her fierce loyalty away from his damn heart from the moment she had jumped in front of Strausser's gun. He just wants his brother to know he is here too. He knows Miles. He knows he will push him away. But he tries anyway.

'You all right?' He looks at Miles. Miles' eyes meet his.

'God, not you too, Bass.' Miles sounds pissed and annoyed. His head hurts like hell and he doesn't know why, but all of a sudden everyone wants to talk this morning.

But when he looks at Bass, he can't ignore the truth in Bass' eyes. The truth that says that they are still brothers and they still have each other's backs. And that he knows Bass is still there.

Bass sees the change in Miles eyes. And for the first time in years, he sees that Miles wants him here. It should not mean so fucking much to him after everything that happened. But it does.

'Don't be such a dick, Miles.' Bass decides to give his brother an easy way out to deal with all his shit with an insult and rough irritation in his voice. But he knows that Miles knows he is there, He bumps his shoulder into Miles on his way back to the house.

* * *

Bass follows the path from their safe house to the ocean. When he reaches the warm sand of the wide beach in front of him, he sees her. And he has to stop. The beach is deserted. But she is there, standing in front of the ocean. Her arms are crossed before her chest. She is looking at the ocean.

 _Dammit_ , she is beautiful. She doesn't even know how beautiful she is, standing there in her jeans and tank. He knows she is hiding at least one knife in her boot but she has left the rest of her weapons at the house. It's just her, the ocean and her tank and jeans.

The waves are calm this morning. The sunlight adds more depth to the different kinds of blue in the water and the deep golden blonde of her hair. When she finally turns around, it's the relaxed smile in her eyes that almost kills him. He wishes they could stay here. He wishes he could erase every single day and moment that every hurt her.

When he starts walking to her, she starts walking to him. She stops in front of him. She doesn't say a word. She just moves her hand around his cheek before she kisses him. And with her deep kiss, she soothes his doubt if she will ever let him kiss her again the way she had last night that has been filling his thoughts.

He fucking loves to feel her body melt against his. He needs her mouth on his. Knowing she wants him and knowing last night is not a one-time thing makes him need her even more. He needs to feel her under him in the warm sand and with her legs wrapped around his middle. But he also knows Miles is fucking close. _Too_ close. And he's probably not happy to see his niece wrapped around him with his hand on its way to her ass.

'Charlie…' he groans. There is a warning in his voice. 'Charlie…stop.'

She doesn't stop. Of course she doesn't. The warmth of her mouth is still covering his damn lips. 'If he sees us…' He groans when she shuts him up by adding more pressure with her body against his thighs and groin. He can feel her smile against his lips.

She finally slows down their kiss before she takes a step away from him. But her eyes tell him they will finish this later. She starts walking back to the house.

He moves his hand through his hair. '….Miles is going to kill me…'

She turns around. Her bright eyes meet his. The wind plays with her hair. And she just smiles. It's a wide, unexpected and real smile that flows all the way to her eyes and that fills his whole chest.

'So what's new, Monroe?'

The End

 **Author's Note** There will be an epilogue. I will miss this wooden house close to the beach, the warmth of the sun and the ocean. I loved spending time with this story. Revoinfinite, thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! I hope you liked this final chapter! I want to thank Threemagpies for her feedback and thank _all_ of you for being there and for your reviews and kind words. They always mean the world to me and I love hearing from you. Love from Love


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

It's early. The beach is deserted. She is sitting on the warm sand and lets the wind caress her skin. The horizon fills with the deep orange and red of a new sunrise. She lets her thoughts flow into the clear morning breeze. It is just her and the beach and the light that is slowly changing now the night is slowly moving into a new day.

It has been two years since she watched the waves on this beach. The war is finally over. People are rebuilding their lives again. Miles and her mother had tried to live their lives together. But there were too many broken moments from the past in their present to make it work. Her mother lives alone the Porter' house now her grandfather has passed away. Miles has met someone. They seem happier this way.

Aaron and Priscilla found a new house ten miles outside Willoughby. They enjoy their quiet and slow life. Connor came back. She will never forget the emotions in Monroe's eyes when he saw his son again. It's another piece of their family that found a way back to them.

And when another sunrise had touched the roofs of Willoughby on a clear autumn morning, she had known it was time to go. She needed to be on her own for a while to adjust to everything that had forever changed in her life. Her heart filled with the sound of the waves and the memory of ocean salt on her lips had brought her back to the endless waves in front of her.

It has been two years since she watched the blue of the ocean for the first time on this same beach. But she never forgot how she found more than war and loss here. She remembers finding a part of herself she hadn't discovered before. She can still remember what if felt like to be kissed by Bass in the shadow of a rock alcove on a late afternoon. She still remembers what they had started here.

The small wooden house was still there and had been waiting for her. It had been dark but the light of the moon had been all the light she needed. She had slept for a couple of hours. When sunrise had been close and the colors in her room had changed into a deep pastel grey, she had walked outside . She had been unable to stay away.

And now she is sitting here. She soaks up the way the daylight is changing all the different kinds of blue in the water in front of her. A smile appears around her lips when she hears him behind her. She knows Bass had been following her from the moment she had left Willoughby. He was right behind her when it was her and the road. She knows that if Bass wants to find her, he always will. And that used to piss her off, but now it just adds more warmth to her sunrise.

She told herself _they_ needed him when she asked her mother to save his life when Texas was about to execute him. She told herself they would never beat the patriots without him. _Miles_ needed him. Time and a world forever changed by a blackout had not been able to break their decades of friendship, no matter how hard they had tried.

And now she is finally able to admit _she_ needs him. She can take care of herself. She can survive. But he adds so much more to her life. She knows she loves him, but it's hard to say those words out loud. But she knows he knows. He never pushes her, he never wants her to be someone she is not. She feels less lonely when his eyes tell her stories about his loneliness. And there is no other man who could give what he gives her.

Bass swallows. He has left his crap close to bed she slept in last night. The bed was empty but he had known where he would find her. He is standing on the beach and just looks at her. She is fucking beautiful in the first morning light. She is wearing a deep blue jeans and tank, but it is all she needs. When she had left Willoughby he gave her the space she needed. But he had also grabbed his stuff. He had known where she was going. He knows how much this place means to her.

He had followed her all the way to this beach. Because he knows he can't stay away. He can't stay away from what they had found in each other. He knows he fucking loves her. She loves him. He knows that too. But she has been through hell and back. He has been through hell and back. They both understand the sharp edges of having to talk about love. But it's right there in her eyes. It's right there in his eyes when he looks at her. He can't hide it. And he doesn't know why and he doesn't deserve it, but Charlie sees all the man he is and she is still there.

He walks towards her, unable to keep his eyes away from her. He sits down behind her. Charlie feels the inside of his wide thighs around her legs. She can feel the leather of the black jacket he was never able to part with, against her shirt. She slowly turns around in his arm. Her clear eyes meet his.

'Hey..' Her voice is strong and relaxed.

His eyes light up and move from her eyes to her lush lips before he finds the blue of her eyes again. 'Hey…'

His hoarse, low voice is warmth inside of her. She leans against his chest and turns her head to kiss him. She breathes in his familiar scent. He covers her mouth with his. He moves his fingers through her hair. It's slow and deep and he takes her time kissing her until she softly whimpers against his lips. He grins while his chest swells with how much he still loves being the one who makes her softly moan against his damn mouth. He isn't sure if he is going to take her here on this damn beach or drag her back to the house so he can feel her warmth and body under him in the same bed they had shared before. _Both_. He's going to do both. There is a smug grin on his face while he looks at her.

Charlie expects to feel his firm lips against her neck. She expects him to say something smug. But he doesn't talk. He doesn't move. He just sits there and watches the sunrise with her. His wide thighs encircle her and she leans into him, comfortable between his thighs and with his scruff against her temple. His chest is wide and warmth behind her. Bass presses a kiss against the bare skin of her shoulder. The warmth of her skin touches his lips. The slow sunrise fills the beach with a golden glow. And when he moves his arms around her to pull her closer against his chest, he soaks up the scent of the ocean in her hair.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I am really going to miss this story because I _loved_ working on this. I'm so grateful for all of your comments, follows and favourites. Knowing you enjoyed this story means the world to me. With love and a lot of gratitude, Love**


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